


Endgame

by kipsi



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Disturbing Themes, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Guro, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kipsi/pseuds/kipsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to go like this. None of it. Miles thought that he had seen already the worst of this fucked up place but he had been <em>so wrong</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endgame

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few ideas I wanted to write down and yeah.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. None of it. Miles thought that he had seen already the worst of this fucked up place but he had been _so wrong_. 

He hadn't seen any of it coming and he was sure that it was also the reason why he was so shaken. He had thought that the pleasant voice belonged to someone who actually wanted to help him, who was maybe the same as him; trapped inside this hell and looking for a way out. It hadn't even crossed his mind that there could be someone completely insane yet still intelligent. Not before he came face to face with Richard Trager and lost his fingers.

He was terrified, yet his insides boiled with rage at the loss of his left ring finger and right index finger. The pain was something that he had never experienced before, burning agony almost blinding him, the broken bones aching as warm blood ran free.

Miles' breathing was rapid even though he tried to control it, not wanting to start hyperventilating again. He had no time to faint now as the mad man was away, having left him alone into his operating room. He had to get the fuck out.

Struggling free from the wheelchair's straps was easier than he had expected, but standing up left him weak and wobbly. He would have collapsed had there not been a wall for a support. The whole room was filthy, the stench of blood and gore, as well as other bodily fluids left Miles even more nauseous.

His vision blurred momentarily from the stabbing pain he still felt, all of his senses now sharper than usual, and he couldn't stop himself from vomiting, the already disgustingly dirty floor getting another reminder beside his blood that he had been there.

He shivered and grimaced at the taste that lingered in his mouth now, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in what was already probably hours. He doubt that he was going to eat anything anytime soon, either. Not that he even had any appetite after seeing all of the shit that he had already gone through.

The only thing that was on his mind right now was to get the fuck out of here. This whole place was fucked up and he regretted it already that he had even stepped into this hell hole. Previously he had thought: what wouldn't he do for a scoop? Well, no one had told him that he would lose his goddamn fingers.

Miles grit his teeth and started to make his way to the door cautiously, listening for any sounds that indicated that the psycho doctor would return. All that he heard, however, was someone else muttering and cursing out loud.

He knew that there were others, he had seen them, trying to hide and keep away. One of them hadn't been so lucky, though; he remembered Trager tsking and telling the guy that he hadn't even deserved to keep that tongue of his. Miles wanted to puke again, but restrained himself. He was sure that even if he did, nothing but bile would come out. He had already emptied his stomach.

Taking in a deep breath he tried the door handle and was surprised that it turned. He opened the door and peered out, sighing in relief when he didn't see the doctor anywhere. He made his way to the nearest room and froze when he saw another guy, this one lying on a bed, bound. The sight was not a pretty one. Miles was sure that all the cuts and stitches were Trager's doing. He made a face when he noted that the guy's dick had been removed.

He was about to leave to look for an exit when the man started to mutter again, which sounded like threatening to Miles, until there was screaming and the man was calling for Trager. Miles cursed out loud and felt his blood run cold when he heard footsteps. He was quick enough to hide from the lunatic before he saw Trager making his way to the fucked up man.

Trager's voice was sickly sweet when he started to talk to his patient and Miles shuddered in his hiding place, recoiling when the doctor suddenly stabbed the guy dead. _Fucking hell_.

He tried to keep his breathing under his control, having completely forgotten the pain he was still in with adrenaline pumping through his system. He felt his heartbeat, heard it loud and clear in his ears. He had to get away, right now.

Miles looked how Trager turned to leave and took it as a cue to make a break for it. He hadn't thought that the doctor would notice him, though, and when he heard the man shouting at him, Miles cursed and started to run as fast as he could. He hoped that the man wouldn't be able to keep up with him, but was surprised how fast he was. He saw more of Trager's patients as he ran through the corridors, screaming at him when he passed them, trying to take a grip of his clothes and slow him down. Why couldn't they just leave him the fuck alone and let him escape?

"Come on now, buddy," he heard Trager's voice behind him, "we're not done yet!" Miles turned a corner and saw a vent. An open one. How had he missed that?

He ran to it and felt relief when he got a proper hold of the edge of it, starting to pull himself up. What he hadn't expected was the firm grasp on his legs, Trager's long nails digging into his flesh even through his jeans. Miles tried to struggle free, but it only seemed to weaken his grip on the vent's edge. He hoped that he could kick the man but didn't succeed, dread making its way into his core when he heard Trager chuckling.

"Thought you'd get away from me, buddy?" Trager's hold grew tighter and Miles gasped in pain. He felt the man pulling him away towards him and Miles grit his teeth, still trying to get away. His strength was leaving him with every tug, his hands growing weaker and weaker until he couldn't hold onto the vent anymore, falling back into Trager, who was waiting and smirking at him.

"That's it," he heard Trager muttering, forcing him down onto the bed that was waiting beneath the vent, strapping him down onto it. Miles couldn't believe that this shit was happening to him. Again.

 

**

 

He was slapped again. Miles bit his lip to keep quiet, fearing that another snappy comment would make the man just more pissed off. He felt stinging on his cheek, probably thanks to the doctor's long nails. He wondered why the hell the guy didn't cut them shorter. Maybe he just was a sadist and wanted to inflict pain on everyone by just taking a firm hold of them, like he was doing now, gripping Miles' chin and making him flinch.

"Try escaping again and I'll cut yer feet off," Trager hissed at him, "should've done that right away, really," he muttered to himself then.

Miles sighed when Trager let go of him and turned around, but his relief was short-lived when he realized that the doctor had moved behind him and the bed, starting to wheel him towards an empty room. If he hadn't realized it yet, it dawned on him now that he was fucked.

They came to a halt in the middle of the new room, this one just as filthy as the one before, blood splatters decorating the floor and walls. Miles had hard time to breathe when he saw all of the supplies that the man had in the room. It resembled more of a torture chamber than an operating room. He didn't even want to know where he had gotten the stuff.

"Alright, let's try this again, eh, buddy?" Trager smiled down at him then, "I'll give ya another chance," he chuckled. "This is going to be lots of fun, trust me."

Miles could feel the man's nails raking down his neck and he recoiled. His wrists and ankles were bound so tight to the bed that he couldn't almost feel them. He wondered if he would be able to suggest the man to loosen the straps a bit, but he laughed at the idea inwardly. There was no way he would do that after his miserable escape attempt.

"Y'know," Trager's voice got his attention immediately, and Miles looked up at the man who smirked down at him, looking at him wickedly. "You've been awfully quiet all this time... last time I got words outta ya only after some cutting," the man sighed, "not that it's a bad thing, I like cutting things, but y'know it starts to get a bit tedious, just me speaking here..."

"I think we gotta play a game, eh, buddy? But first, lets get ya loosen up a bit," Trager chuckled. Miles watched silently how Trager moved to one of the countertops, his hand hovering over several supplies. He could feel his heart beating fast with dread before he saw how the man picked up a small bowl and returned to his side.

Miles craned his neck to see what the hell Trager was holding, and when he realized what he saw he felt rage boiling inside him again. The fucker had his fingers, right there. He started to squirm again. "You piece of shit, give me my fingers," he snarled at the man who watched him, somewhat pleased.

Trager placed the bowl beside Miles and shrugged. "If you insist," he said then, pinning him to the bed and working his jeans open. Miles froze and looked at him with a new sense of fear when he was left bare from waist down, his jeans and underwear yanked down to his still bound ankles.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" he asked, horrified. He definitely hadn't seen this coming, even though the guy was a creep. Trager sighed while forcing his legs apart. "I'm giving ya yer fingers, like ya requested," the answer left Miles speechless and disgusted. He didn't even have time to think of anything when he already cursed out loud, feeling Trager pushing one of _his own_ bloody fingers into him. It burned, the stretch unexpected and making him inhale sharply every time Trager moved Miles' finger inside him, forcing it deeper.

He screwed his eyes shut through the pain and cursed himself because it didn't take that long until he didn't feel the burn that badly anymore, and the next time Trager moved the finger inside him he felt a jolt of something else that was soon after replaced with the pain again when Trager forced his another severed finger into him, stretching his hole wider.

Miles bit his lip, completely humiliated when after a couple of pushes he shuddered, but not from pain. Trager seemed to notice it too, since Miles saw him smirking above him, starting to fuck him with the fingers more roughly. "Ya like this, hm?" he heard Trager asking, his voice amused. Miles told him to fuck off and was rewarded with a snort. The man was laughing at him, and very likely getting off at this. It revulsed him but he couldn't stop the moan that broke out of him when the man rammed the fingers into him with force.

He cursed, short of breath, and realized with horror that he was getting hard as well. Miles wanted to die when Trager commented on his appearance, amusement so clear in his voice that it made Miles feel even worse. He had never been as mortified as he was now.

He grit his teeth, trying to fight the gasps and groans that threatened to leave him as Trager worked the fingers in and out of him, soon growing bored and pulling them out completely, leaving Miles gasping for breath and painfully hard. "Think we gotta do something about this," Trager muttered then, letting his finger slide down Miles' cock and making him squirm, feeling his nail scratching his skin.

"Get the fuck away from me," Miles snarled at him, breathless. He sucked in a breath when his cock was grasped roughly, Trager apparently not giving a fuck about what he had to say. He tasted blood in his mouth when Trager took him into his mouth, realizing that he had bit too hard onto his lip. And Trager was taking him in deep. Fuck.

Miles couldn't think straight, feeling Trager swallowing around his dick and sending vibrations down his spine with his humming. He couldn't help his dick from pulsing in the man's mouth and leaving him in haze. He didn't even realize that Trager had let go of him until he felt a hardness pressing against his ass, entering him and stretching him anew.

He heard the man hissing at the same time with his own cry. He forced himself to breathe, even though the pain made it a difficult task, especially when Trager didn't give him any time to adjust. It was torture, really, and the fucker got off on his pain.

When Trager took a hold of Miles' neck and pressed him flat on the bed, Miles felt like fainting. He was gasping for air that he wasn't getting, Trager's grip making it impossible for him to breathe as he fucked into him with sharp thrusts that made Miles shake. "Mmm _mnnn_ buddy," Trager groaned, "yer so fucking tight."

Miles was sure that he would pass out soon, his vision was getting murky and his lungs were screaming for not getting any oxygen. The hand disappeared from his throat and he was slapped, the nails scraping him again. Miles was gasping for breath immediately, feeling saliva dripping down his chin as he tried to breathe. He cursed at the man, yelling insults at him, his throat hurting and his voice rough.

"Shut yer mouth or I'll cut that tongue off as well," he heard Trager's voice turning irritated now. Miles glared at the man and bit his still bleeding lip, hoping that he could somehow kill this bastard as he felt his cock brush against his prostate, making him moan and Trager curse, feeling Miles clenching around him.

Miles hated that this was happening to him, that he couldn't stop this. He was too overwhelmed and couldn't feel his bound wrists or ankles anymore, not even the pain that the missing fingers had left behind. He was being torn open from the inside and he could feel wetness filling him and streaming down his cheeks.

He was only vaguely aware that Trager pulled out of him and gave him an amused look before he left him alone into the room, this time locking the door behind him.

 

**

 

Miles jumped at the sound of a key turning in the lock . He was still in pain, but at the same time he felt drained. All of his strength had left him, and it made him feel even more vulnerable than before. He hated it, especially when he knew that something horrible was bound to happen to him next, when he saw Trager walking into the room and giving him a chuckle.

"I see yer still alive and stayed put," Trager hummed, "good, real good," the man muttered as he moved to the countertop again, this time picking up a cleaver, returning to Miles soon after, looking him up and down with interest.

It took Miles a moment to focus on the man again and when he did, he couldn't take his eyes off of the cleaver, his heartbeat growing frantic. 

"I wonder what I should cut off next, now that you seem to be more _relaxed_ " Trager mused out loud, Miles paling and looking at him with terror. "Don't-" Trager cut him off with a tsk. "I'll let ya choose, that's the part of the game" he said then, "I've this," he showed him another bowl. "Pick one piece of paper," he told him and brought the bowl over to his hand.

"You think I'm going to do that?" Miles glared at him now. Trager looked at him for a moment before he sighed. "Ya really want to ruin all the fun, don't ya? This way it's more exciting, for the both of us." Miles couldn't believe that this fucker was serious. But he knew that he was, when he looked at the man in the eyes and saw the silent threat in them.

It took Miles a moment to even feel his bound hand before he was able to move his fingers. His whole hand shook badly when he got a hold of a thin paper. He held his breath the whole time, his heartbeat fast when Trager took it from him and looked at it. Miles was hoping for the best, or the best that he could get.

"Seems we'll get to start with yer ear," Trager said then, moving to his right and without even a pause sawed his right ear off, leaving Miles gasping and screaming in pain, feeling the warm blood trickling down along his neck.

"Shame, that," Trager hummed as he dropped the ear on a tray. "Ya better make sure the next one isn't an ear as well or ya can't hear what I'm saying to ya," Trager said, lifting the bowl to Miles' hand.

He couldn't focus properly, the other half of his head aflame and making him feel faint. He felt a stinging pain and saw white, Trager slapping him. "C'mon now, buddy, don't quit on me yet, we haven't even started this properly," he sounded irritated.

Miles was shaking when he felt the bowl against his fingertips. He didn't want to pick another one, it was bound to be worse. But he had no choice, so he took a grip of one of the papers with his shaky hand. He heard Trager picking up another instrument soon after he had taken the paper from him. Miles closed his eyes with fear.

"Alright, buddy," he heard faintly now, "I'm gonna cut ya open now." The statement made Miles recoil, want to break free again, but he couldn't move.

He felt the blade on him, cutting his shirt before it sank into his flesh with more force, making him scream and writhe before Trager pinned him into place with his own body so that he could cut into him easier.

Miles was able to smell his own blood, and the thought of it made him sick to his stomach, which Trager started to carve open as well. He bled onto the bed, his blood still warm as it flowed free. He heard Trager humming above him, but most of the sounds were drowned out by his own screams of pain. He knew that he wouldn't last long anymore, it was just too much.

He started to black out, but was brought back into consciousness by Trager once again, who was giving him a hard look. "Don't pass out now, buddy," he chided, "we're gonna continue till there's no breath left in ya."


End file.
